


close your eyes and count to twenty(four)

by orphan_account



Series: Higher Education for Jellicle Kids [1]
Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dance, Anxiety, Ballet, Ballet Dancer Mistoffelees, Comedy, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Nervousness, Romance, munkus is in there too but just for a bit, rated for PDA and cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-20 11:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tonight is the big night - Mistoffelees is performing his solo in the annual show.  His nerves are getting to him.  He can't stop thinking he might mess up in front of a huge crowd.  His boyfriend, Tugger, does his best to boost Misto's confidence before his performance.





	close your eyes and count to twenty(four)

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i didn't want to change misto or tugger's name to bland normal names for the fic.  
except munkustrap. his name is Marcus.  
anyway, *projects all my experiences as a dancer into this fic* enjoy :)

It’s been nine months since Mistoffelees began rehearsing for his solo. He’s been practicing hard, pushing himself to the brink of his physical abilities and further. He's been staying in the studio hours later than the rehearsal was planned for, lost at least three different nails, and nearly cried from how sore he was afterward. Every muscle in his body had been pushed to the limit – and it’s just a solo. His life doesn’t depend on it, and yet Misto can’t help but feel overwhelmed by the anxiety. 

His hands are shaking. Misto takes a deep breath again; it doesn’t help. There’s only this dance and the next one left before his solo. At least he isn’t ending the show. Still, his is the only solo in the show, and there’s one goddamn move that, no matter how many times he proved he could do it, fills him with dread at the very thought of attempting it before a huge audience.

Backstage is nice and dark, lit only by the lights of be stage spilling past the wings, to hide his trembling. Misto hugs himself, unable to drag a hand down his face what with the makeup on his face. The trio onstage is going well and the next dance is quite long. He has time to keep stretching. 

Somewhere else backstage, a door opens, but Misto doesn’t turn. He’s busy bending down to touch his toes. While he rolls up slowly and leans into a port de bras backward, feeling the stretch in his shoulder blades. Suddenly, a familiar pair of arms wind around his waist, a body pressing against his back. Warm and solid.

“Tugger,” Misto all but purrs, “Who let you in here, darling?” His voice is a bit weak but his boyfriend’s presence helps to steadies him.

Tugger’s voice is deep and reassuring, “They were all but begging me to join them, Mistoffelees.” Tugger presses a kiss to his cheek and turns Misto by the hips to give him a proper hug. “Your friends were very happy to see me. But, really, how are you doing?”

Careful not to smear his makeup onto Tugger’s prized leather jacket, Misto tucks himself into his boyfriend’s embrace and sighs. “Nervous. I can’t calm down.”

Tugger tuts at that. “Babe. Baby. Baby boy.” He gently pulls back to look Misto in the eye. “You are fantastic. I’ve seen you perform, and it’s like magic. You’ve been practicing for months now, dear, and I know that there are no other dancers here that can do what you do. You’re going to be amazing, and I’m going to watch you, and throw a rose on stage when you finish, and when we get home I’m going to sprinkle the rose petals in a bath and then we’re going to—”

“Shh!” Misto presses two fingers to Tuggers lips, blushing fiercely. “Thank you, darling. I’m successfully distracted. Leaning forward onto his tippy toes, Misto places a quick peck on Tugger’s lips. “I’m almost up. Go back to your seat and I’ll see you after the show, okay?” He lets himself grin, feeling significantly better now.

It takes another solid minute of stolen kisses and reassurances until Misto feels steady enough to get Tugger to detach himself. After that, Misto has about a minute left before the dance ends, and then it’s his turn. The trio had ended while Tugger was with him. Time had passed much quicker with his boyfriend to distract him.

The nerves haven’t gone away completely – his chest still feels fluttery. His hands have stopped shaking, though. Misto has gotten better at reining in the pre-performance nerves over the years. He knows that when he steps on stage, his anxiety will ramp up tenfold during blackout, but the moment the song begins and the powerful stage lighting reveals him to the crowd, he’ll slip into the choreography. 

One last deep breath and then the dance is over and the lights fade out. The exhausted dancers run off stage silently but for their breathing – Victoria, his wonderful younger sister, gives him a huge grin and a thumbs up before heading into the dressing room to rest. Misto steps onto stage. 

It’s pitch black. The audience can’t see his silhouette, and he can’t see them. For just a moment, it’s just him on stage, waiting for the music to begin. His heart rate kicks up and his blinks, hard. The lights fade in; the audience can now see him, the murmurs die down, and Misto is in position. A light melody of piano accompanies him, familiar as the back of his hand.

His choreography is precise – though the song begins slowly, his teacher has instructed him to hold the power and intention in his arms as he extends them, in his legs as he makes lines. Every time he piques forward into arabesque, he feels the thrill of holding the position, feels the burn in every muscle that keeps him aloft. 

The music starts to speed up. Everything is going smoothly – he doesn’t stumble when he lands from his jumps. He’s hitting every cue, going with the music, and he feels _good_. Of course, Misto’s still terrified, even though this isn’t his first solo. It’s the move that he knows is coming that has him straining to keep a serene look on his face and the softness in his hands. He makes sure to keep in mind where he’s going next until, suddenly, it’s time.

The music has reached its crescendo, Misto chassés to center stage right before the apron begins, and preps. It had taken him weeks of intense rehearsals, hours of frustration and pain, but he’d mastered it. Twenty-four consecutive fouettés en tournant – a move that requires balance, strength, and incredible control. When his dance teacher had first told him he’d be doing a difficult turn sequence, Misto hadn’t expected it to be _twenty-four_ turns. He’d had an anxiety attack or two just thinking about attempting that onstage in front of hundreds of people.

And yet, it seems there was nothing to fear. Misto spots near-perfectly with each turn, head whipping around to keep his eyes on the same area on a far-off wall, arms strong, and counting each turn. He can’t seem to catch his breath after reaching fifteen turns and by the time he passes twenty, his chest aches. At twenty-four, he dismounts carefully, placing a foot down and keeping it straight as he cuts off his momentum and poses just as the music ends.

The crowd erupts in delighted applause. Sweat beads on Misto’s face – and everywhere, really – and rolls down, but he’s never been more ecstatic. He can hardly keep a goofy smile off his face. Looking out into the crowd, who’ve decided to continue clapping, he sees a rose soar onto the stage and land at his feet. Mistoffelees breaks the position and bows, swiftly grabbing the rose and locking eyes with Tugger for a split second before running off stage.

The pride and love radiating from Tugger fills him with warmth.

When he passes the wings and the audience can no longer see him, Misto gasps and heaves in a ragged breath. Years of binding during high school and early college had left him with a smaller lung capacity, but that didn’t stop him from dancing. 

Victoria wraps him in her arms, gentle enough to let him breathe, but tight enough to show her support. As she leads them to a chair, she squeals, “You did so good! I’m so proud of you,” she kisses the top of his head despite the sweat and hairspray and then passes a water bottle to him, “You looked so graceful doing those turns.” She rubs his shoulder while he’s still unable to speak. He chugs some water down and finally feels like he isn’t going to pass out.

“Thanks,” he wheezes. “Look at this rose, Tori. Guess which dork actually threw me a rose?”

She giggles, “Let me guess…a certain leather-jacket-wearing, head-over-heels, tall, and handsome young man by the name of Your Boyfriend?” 

Misto, caught up in the post-performance high, sighs a dreamy and exaggerated, “I think I may faint, dear sister. My suitor is oh-so romantic.” 

Victoria gasps. They’ve done this bit so many times, the old timey accent comes easily, because Misto would always call her Queen Victoria. This, of course, led to an obsession on Victoria’s part with the _Victorian_ era. "Why, you may even be flushed with a fever from the excitement!" She places a palm on his forehead and then reels back, “Oh, gross, I forgot how sweaty you are.”

“What do you expect,” he laughs, “I just finished some crazy ass choreo. Let me sweat.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go towel off in the dressing room.”

He and Victoria retreat to their respective dressing rooms to touch up their makeup before bows. The energy from the dance all but drains out of him the moment he stepped into the warm room packed with his fellow dancers. They congratulate him, tell him they were watching from the wings, and Marcus tells him that he was filming. Misto thanks them all profusely and continues to drink his water. The sweat dries and he can’t wait until he’s home and showered and in his sweats. He desperately wants to curl up with Tugger and drift off into sleep on their comfy mattress, but alas, he still needs to do one more appearance for bows.

Time passes slowly as his body cools down and he starts to feel all the aches of pains that come with a ballet performance. At one point, he lays his head down on the vanity and drifts off. He only wakes up because Marcus shakes his shoulder and tells him it’s time for bows.

Misto is half-asleep while they file onto stage and do a final bow, smiling widely when he hears a familiar voice yell his name from the crowd. He spots Tugger again right before the main drops. Racing back to the dressing room, Misto grabs all of his belongings and stuffs them in his duffel bag. With the late show, strike isn’t until tomorrow during class, so he can make his way out of the theater quickly. With Victoria in tow, he and most of the other dancers clump together on the way outside. 

A crowd is waiting for them on the other side of the door, cheering again as the dancers pour out into the chilly air. With Tugger’s height, it’s not hard to spot him, but it is hard to make his way through the crowd. Misto doesn’t mind being short as much as he did when he was in high school and it’s almost entirely due to Tugger being able to pick him up so easily.

True to form, the moment that Tugger sees him, he speeds forward and scoops him off the ground in a hug. Their momentum spins them around, Tugger presses him closer, and kisses him. Misto smiles into the kiss as Tugger lets him down and continues to kiss him until he has to part for air. It’s safe to say that nothing will ever beat how Tugger can get him so breathless.

“Babe, you _glowed_. You outdid everyone else, every single dancer ever to perform has _nothing_ on your performance. I knew you would nail those turns!” Tugger leans down to kiss him again. “Now, let’s go home. You deserve a nice bath. Just like I promised.” 

Misto nods, content and pliant in his boyfriend’s arms. “Okay.” He shivers a bit at the breeze.

Instantly, Tugger shucks his leather jacket off and sets it gently on Misto’s shoulders. He’s so much broader and taller than Misto that he’s basically swimming in the jacket, but it’s warm and smells just like Tugger, and the fur collar tickles his neck pleasantly. 

Before they go, Misto catches Victoria’s eyes and waves at her. She smiles back knowingly and wiggles her fingers at him in goodbye. Blushing, Misto turns and glances up at Tugger who looks down at him with a smirk. 

“Shut up.” Misto blushes harder.

“I didn’t say anything.” Tugger continues to smirk at him as he drapes an arm around Misto’s shoulders and pulls him closer. 

**Author's Note:**

> here's my tumblr if y'all wanna talk: [captainjames-loveswriting](https://captainjames-loveswriting.tumblr.com/)
> 
> BALLET/THEATER TERMS (the ballet ones are taken from the ballet dictionary)  
1\. "...lost at least three different nails," yes, ballet dancers often lose nails when they're on pointe! They just bandage it and shrug it off!  
2\. Wings: the shorter stage "curtains" used to frame the stage and keep backstage covered.  
3\. Port de bras: meaning “movement of the arms.” It describes how dancers move their arms from one position to another.  
4\. Blackout: if you hadn't guessed, it's when there are no lights on between dances.  
5\. Pique: meant to describe how a dancer transfers weight onto a leg on full pointe or high demi-pointe.  
6\. Arabesque: a position where the body is supported on one leg, with the other leg extended directly behind the body with a straight knee.  
7\. Chassé: have one foot extended forward, the back foot then “chases” and meets up with the front for a quick moment before the front foot shoots forward again, all while traveling forward.  
8\. Apron: section of the stage that is shaped like a semi-circle, extending into the audience.  
9\. Prep: preparing for a move (lift, turn, or jump).  
10\. Fouetté en tournant: the dancer turns on one foot while making fast outward and inward thrusts of the working leg at each revolution.  
11\. Main: the big "curtain" closest to the audience, usually red.  
12\. Strike: the cleaning and clearing of stage and backstage after a show ends.
> 
> and here's a video of Mistoffelees doing his conjuring turns! ([x](https://youtu.be/oUQ-trOrTAQ))


End file.
